I had never been to Texas before moving here at the beginning of July for a reporting job at the Midland Reporter-Telegram. Seeing that I’m new around here, I suppose I ought to share something about myself. After all, as a journalist, I’m constantly asking people to reveal their beliefs and vulnerabilities. I guess it’s time I have a taste of my own medicine.

It took us three days of straight driving to get here from southern California; my twin brother and I rotated shifts at the wheel. He came to keep me company and help me move in. We blasted music most of the way to keep ourselves alert on the long flat road across the Southwest.

This is different country to me. I grew up by the beach, playing soccer in the dry southern California heat. The heat here is familiar to me; the flatness and the dryness of the land are not. But I’ve always been drawn to vast landscapes and places different from where I’m from. There are stories here. But you all know that.

I’m from a tight-knit family -- my twin brother who has always had my back, plus an unlikely bunch of four dogs: two Chihuahuas, a pitbull and a huge American bulldog who’s also the biggest baby of the pack.

I believe everyone’s a storyteller; I’ve just always loved writing the things down. I think there’s a value in recording one’s experiences, in being aware of the feelings and the struggles that came with a moment in time, large or small. This is what makes a life, and there is inherent value in that.

I have a deep drive to do justice to telling the stories of those I speak to, though I know this is an impossible goal. It is impossible -- at least in my opinion -- to truly know the experience of another person, but it is of the utmost importance to genuinely and with empathy try to understand the other, to put down any preconceived notions or prejudices we might have and just listen.

I’ve always liked to run around outside and sweat and play. I played soccer my whole life, playing center mid for the varsity soccer team at Tufts University in Boston through my sophomore year. But then I quit. I decided to leave something that had been a source of strength, pride and identity since before I could remember in order to pursue more deeply my interests in journalism and this nagging desire to see things more clearly.

No longer being a varsity athlete gave me the time to have one of the most life-affecting and incredible experiences of my life so far: documenting the lives of the regular patrons at an old bar in Revere Beach, Massachusetts, called the Shipwreck Lounge. There I found a motley crew of people: lonely people, desperate people, alcoholics, drug addicts, Vietnam veterans, gangsters, storytellers and all of the above. They were people who had gotten shipwrecked at this old place and had faced storms like all of us do and will as we navigate our lives.

Whether they considered themselves good or bad people, whether society had deemed them winners or losers, they all had something to say. Most of them surprised and delighted me in their wisdom and wit, especially the bar manager who has become like a second grandfather to me. The others wore their rottenness, be it due to time or nature, like a badge.

Perhaps most importantly, though, almost all of them showed an ability to learn from life. They displayed the distinctly human need to find meaning in their circumstances, or choose not to and know this choice was theirs and theirs alone. These choices had nothing to do with their happiness, but more with their mode of survival.

Living is much better than surviving, but not all of us have such a privilege. What does remain consistent and what I love most about journalism is that, more often than not, when you really listen to what a person is saying with respect and an open mind, they surprise you in a powerful way.

Journalists hope that good reporting and accurate information can help educate the public in a way that is fair and leads to well-informed change. But in my experience, we as people also need to truly feel something in order to really care about whatever information we’re digesting. We need to feel by practicing true empathetic listening in order to grow. As a journalist, I will do my best to have my work reflect this belief.

Already I’ve met so many incredible people here -- dance instructors who believe deeply in their students; doctors who witness so much death but go on nonetheless with a true appreciation for life and the human spirit after seeing the strength and resilience that exists in each of their patients. I’ve spoken with people who have faced the darkness of addiction and come out with the courage and wisdom to help others who are going down the same path; I’ve talked with children who show forethought and backbone beyond their years.

I could go on and on. Anyway, I hope this helps you understand a little bit about who I am. I’ll conclude with the words of Midland’s own Ed Todd because he says it better than I could: “Throughout Midland and the Midland country, there are sagas and tales, all worth the while, none too petty and none too grand… The truth is in perspective, in seeing and in seeking goodness in life’s trails of trials and woes and rainbows.”